My Writer’s Sabbatical at One Year
It’s been a year. How’m I doing?
Okay, I guess. Glad I did it. Glad I’m doing it.
Glad I’ve written two novels.
Glad I’ve been rereading and editing these two novel manuscripts.
Glad I’ve repeatedly gone back and reread and edited nearly all my past novel manuscripts.
Glad I’ve written 40,000 words of nonfiction (meaning, these blog entries).
Glad I’ve been journaling in a memoir I started in 2014, and it’s nearly 120,000 words.
Glad I’ve been taking a lot of notes, scribbling in journals, making lists and resolutions and new lists.
Glad I finished the first act of a new novel in January . . . but not so glad that I haven’t been back to it since.
Glad I have a new novel in the development stage . . . but not so glad that I haven’t worked on it in months . . . and not so glad that I haven’t started any scripts either.
Glad I’ve read 190 books: 53 novels, 55 nonfiction books, 20 books of poetry, and 22 books on writing, plus assorted story collections, graphic novels, anthologies, art books, cookbooks, and scripts.
Glad I’ve finished 604 pages of artwork since last July. I scribble, doodle, letter, color, and brush in sketchbooks of all kinds and sizes. Art is my break from the intense planning of my fiction. When I stand up from my writing desk and plop down on the stool at my art table, I grab a pen from the carousel and make a mark and follow my impulses.
Glad I’ve been able to spend time with my wife and family and see my old friends now and then . . . not so glad that, for reasons of family health, I have to continue to observe a strict quarantine . . . which means I have no excuse for not sitting my butt down every morning and getting some writing done.
Glad that I have the support of my wife and family to make this sabbatical a reality . . . not so glad that it’s my own fault if I don’t make the most of this time.
Glad I took this self-titled “writer’s sabbatical,” which means I stopped teaching middle school and high school last spring and moved to Michigan in September to read, rest, and write . . . not so glad I have to manage money, time, and expectations every day, which means sometimes I lose sight of the big picture.
Glad I’ve been able to travel and visit my son in Virginia, my daughter in North Carolina, and my brother in Brooklyn . . . but not so glad that I’ve barely made a dent in the long list of people I intended to visit during my sabbatical.
Glad I went dog-sledding with my mom in the Upper Peninsula.
Glad I attended Woodlawn School’s June commencement and visited with many of my past students and saw the seniors graduate (some of whom I’ve known since they were in elementary school). Glad I also recited a poem I wrote in honor of the senior earning this year’s Creative Arts Award.
Glad I’ve messaged daily with a group of friends I’ve known since grade school . . . not so glad that the impetus for the group chat was the illness of one of those friends. Glad, however, that our daily messages gave this friend strength to power through his ordeal.
Glad I’ve finally made an effort to create an online presence by making an author’s website, publishing 25 entries of a blog on my site and on Medium, and connecting, commenting, and sharing (to a limited extent) on Instagram, Medium, and LinkedIn. Glad I was on fire from February to April . . . but not so glad that I’ve fallen off since then.
Glad I’ve had months where I was up . . . not so glad I’ve had months where I was down. I’d hoped for slow and steady. Instead, I got lurch and stall. I’m paying more attention to the news than I’d like, but I’m a citizen. I can’t not pay attention. I’m supposed to be hiding out in the bubble of my sabbatical, but I am, like everyone, jarred by news of the latest shooting, ruling, or hearing. Glad I planned this doggone sabbatical . . . not so glad that I’m swinging wildly among extreme emotional states.
Glad I make Queen Bee on the NYT’s Spelling Bee . . . not so glad to be feeling a bit guilty devoting my mornings to drinking coffee and playing word games (the Bee, crossword, Letter Boxed, and Wordl) . . . but then again it’s good for the brain, and I’m a writer. Words are good. So whatever.
Glad I’ve had so much time to exercise . . . not so glad I haven’t used much of that time to exercise. It’s always Day One or feels like it. I’m always “getting back to it.” I tell myself I gotta get back to it today . . . this week . . . next month. Glad I’m able to walk trails in the woods and do yoga with Rodney Yee and Next Level with Tony Horton . . . but not so glad I have to keep willing myself to stick with it.
Glad I’ve been able to sleep.
Glad I’ve been able to rest and recover and feel like myself again.
Glad my wife and I have had time to plan our daughter’s upcoming wedding.
Glad my wife has had time to do her thing—so needed—and to spend time with her parents.
Glad my wife and I celebrated our 29th wedding anniversary this July 4th.
Glad I decided to seize the day at fifty-one years old and take this sabbatical . . . not so glad that life is so messy, my emotions are so wacky, and reality does not always conform to my dreams.
Glad I did well from September to December last year when I wrote two novels . . . but not so glad that, six months into this year, I haven’t finished another novel manuscript.
Glad I wrote this list to see that I’ve done pretty well overall and should maybe chill.
Glad to focus my energy on rolling strong into the second half of 2022.
How’s my writer’s sabbatical going after a year?
I may need another year.
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PHOTO: My wife and I taking time for ourselves . . . for if you do not take time, how can you ever have time?
